Onset
Aug 18, 2019 17:01:27 GMT -6
Post by Snick on Aug 18, 2019 17:01:27 GMT -6
Mr. Miyagi was an asshole.
Ok, maybe he wasn't an asshole, but Makepeace was beginning to think Miss Buskirk was. He had volunteered to come in on a saturday evening to help with the stage design, and found her waiting with a large floor sander, a few hand-sanders and knee-pads. Apparently, the tap-dancing from last year's production of The Wiz had done quite a bit of damage to the floor, and it had yet to actually be buffed out.
In some ways, Makepeace was happy to do the work. If Esther got the part she was auditioning for and was going to be doing ballet on this floor, he certainly didn't want her to trip and break her neck, but it was still a pain in the ass. He thought he'd be volunteering to paint sets or do bits of art to decorate them; not menial labor.
The floor sander buzzed like a horde of bees as he pushed it around. He had dressed down to do the work, wearing the tee-shirt from some random hard rock group, jeans and a pair of old Nikes that he'd dredged out of his Muggle clothes cache, as well as a filter mask and safety goggles. If anyone were to walk in on him, he'd look like some random teenager sulkily pushing around a floor sander.
Esther came in early to talk to Miss Buskirk about her part. She was worried about trying to dance both convincingly and badly as a character with eight years experience and no talent. She would need to make the character athletically strong, but perhaps clutzy. On pointe, but awkward. It would take real skill to make it work.
She went heard something terribly noisy, and instead of finding Buskirk, found Makepeace operating the electric sander. She stood patiently, waiting for him to notice her. Maybe he'd know where Buskirk was, and why she hadn't just done this magically and used the custodian, Jorel what's his name.
At least he wasn't having to do this with those hand sanders while on his hands and knees, although he would have to do that later in the corners that the big sander couldn't get to. The air smelled like old wood and varnish as he worked, and sawdust flew everywhere in a dust devil around him, coating his shoes, going up his pants-legs and just making itself a nuisance.
It was a few minutes before he turned to look at Esther, and any surprise that might have appeared on his face was well hidden by the breathing gear and safety goggles. "Esther... Come to the dark side." He rasped through the respirator mask, his voice sounding hollow and menacing. "We have cake and My Little Pony dolls. It will be lovely."
Esther quickly got into character. "Ooh, I love my Little Ponies! But Grandmother says I'm not to take cake from strangers with scary voices, I'm on a diet." She nodded like a very serious kindergartner, then grinned.
She reached down and pulled off his mask. "Seriously, why isn't Jorel or Dorsel or Torvil or whatever that scary custodian's name is doing this? You aren't here to be punished and that doesn't look fun. For that matter, I'm sure the custodian has a few miscreant students he can put to work doing this. . . including a couple of fireflies if the rumors I heard are true."
"Well..." He began in his Darth Vader voice, and then switched back to his normal voice after she took his mask off. "Well..." Then he had to clear his throat, because doing the Darth Vader voice left his throat feeling a little raspy. "If you want my honest opinion on the matter, I think Miss Buskirk's a little like the rest of us. She's afraid of Bryson and wants as little as possible to do with him. I mean, they both live in houseboats, right? Imagine having him for a neighbor. Watching her every move, skulking around, looking in on her while she's doing yoga, stealing her dirty laundry and sniffing it..." Then again, that must make Makepeace slightly creepy for enjoying the scent of Esther on the towels she had offered him.
"Besides, someone has to do it so you're not tripping over all these little dents in the floor ven you are doing zee pee-roo-ates I vill be makingk you do, my Pavlowa." He went on to say, slipping into an exaggerated Russian accent as he said it. "Pirouette! Entre chat!"
If he had a comment to make about Siobhan and Pratt's run-in with the custodian, he didn't make it, but then, they had sworn him to secrecy about their... Relationship.
"The custodian is a little creepy, but they wouldn't have hired him if he was truly evil, would they? I mean, he's working around kids!" Esther noticed the way he deflected the part about the fireflies. Hmmn. Must be true. She smirked. Very well, she could change the subject too.
"It will be a challenge to dance like someone who has had eight years of dancing with lessons and practice every day, but is still bad. She'd have to be athletic. She'd have some knowledge of the moves. But basically a clutz, and graceless. I've had ballet lessons since I was three. I do know how to do it, well. So I wonder if I shouldn't have let someone with no skill at ballet at all take this part." Privately, Esther was worried that people might think she really was a terrible dancer. Or maybe Miss Buskirk did.
"John Wayne Gacy worked as a clown, didn't he? For, like, hospitals and childrens' birthday parties and such?" He countered with a deadpan expression. Then he figured that he was letting the other Keepers' paranoia about the staff infect him, and shrugged it off. "But yeah, he would have been checked out before they let him work here." Wouldn't he have? Makepeace was fairly certain of that.
He cocked his head at her as she spoke of the challenge of portraying someone who sucked at Ballet, and pursed his lips. "Got me, although the script calls for me to really get into it and do some pirouettes, as well." He said, raising himself up on his tiptoes in what could have been the world's most awkward en pointe. "Still, there's more to being a dancer than just the athleticism." He said, sinking back down. "There's rhythm and artistry. Or so my Swing Dancing instructor said over the summer. Maybe she has no rhythm? Maybe she's tone deaf and that's why she can stand to live with a guy who plays the Xylophone."
"Ooh, no rhythm. I could make that play! I could make her skilled, athletic, even graceful, but with absolutely no sense of timing. Perfect!" She gave Makepeace a hug and nearly kissed his cheek before she stopped herself, turning into a silly Russian ballerina air kiss, and making it in character for his character, not hers. "Perfect, dahling, vee vill make dis vork!"
"Just a little sage advice from the king of rhythmically-challenged white boys." He said with a wink, noticing how close she was, and the scent of her as she delivered the air-kisses. His mind began to race, and his cheeks colored a little at the sudden, unexpected closeness. Without his suit on, it was like he was virtually naked in front of her.
He stifled that thought hurriedly.
"So, how are you doing?" He asked, suddenly feeling a lot more bashful than he was a few moments ago. What the hell was going on? Did he suddenly lose his powers when he took off his suit or something?
Esther looked at him curiously. He'd blushed. Maybe it was the heat after being under the mask. "I think you need some fresh air. Let's get you outside. We can talk about how we are doing out there. I've been looking for possible Legacy recruits, the usual. You aren't coming down with anything, are you?"
Ok, maybe he wasn't an asshole, but Makepeace was beginning to think Miss Buskirk was. He had volunteered to come in on a saturday evening to help with the stage design, and found her waiting with a large floor sander, a few hand-sanders and knee-pads. Apparently, the tap-dancing from last year's production of The Wiz had done quite a bit of damage to the floor, and it had yet to actually be buffed out.
In some ways, Makepeace was happy to do the work. If Esther got the part she was auditioning for and was going to be doing ballet on this floor, he certainly didn't want her to trip and break her neck, but it was still a pain in the ass. He thought he'd be volunteering to paint sets or do bits of art to decorate them; not menial labor.
The floor sander buzzed like a horde of bees as he pushed it around. He had dressed down to do the work, wearing the tee-shirt from some random hard rock group, jeans and a pair of old Nikes that he'd dredged out of his Muggle clothes cache, as well as a filter mask and safety goggles. If anyone were to walk in on him, he'd look like some random teenager sulkily pushing around a floor sander.
Esther came in early to talk to Miss Buskirk about her part. She was worried about trying to dance both convincingly and badly as a character with eight years experience and no talent. She would need to make the character athletically strong, but perhaps clutzy. On pointe, but awkward. It would take real skill to make it work.
She went heard something terribly noisy, and instead of finding Buskirk, found Makepeace operating the electric sander. She stood patiently, waiting for him to notice her. Maybe he'd know where Buskirk was, and why she hadn't just done this magically and used the custodian, Jorel what's his name.
At least he wasn't having to do this with those hand sanders while on his hands and knees, although he would have to do that later in the corners that the big sander couldn't get to. The air smelled like old wood and varnish as he worked, and sawdust flew everywhere in a dust devil around him, coating his shoes, going up his pants-legs and just making itself a nuisance.
It was a few minutes before he turned to look at Esther, and any surprise that might have appeared on his face was well hidden by the breathing gear and safety goggles. "Esther... Come to the dark side." He rasped through the respirator mask, his voice sounding hollow and menacing. "We have cake and My Little Pony dolls. It will be lovely."
Esther quickly got into character. "Ooh, I love my Little Ponies! But Grandmother says I'm not to take cake from strangers with scary voices, I'm on a diet." She nodded like a very serious kindergartner, then grinned.
She reached down and pulled off his mask. "Seriously, why isn't Jorel or Dorsel or Torvil or whatever that scary custodian's name is doing this? You aren't here to be punished and that doesn't look fun. For that matter, I'm sure the custodian has a few miscreant students he can put to work doing this. . . including a couple of fireflies if the rumors I heard are true."
"Well..." He began in his Darth Vader voice, and then switched back to his normal voice after she took his mask off. "Well..." Then he had to clear his throat, because doing the Darth Vader voice left his throat feeling a little raspy. "If you want my honest opinion on the matter, I think Miss Buskirk's a little like the rest of us. She's afraid of Bryson and wants as little as possible to do with him. I mean, they both live in houseboats, right? Imagine having him for a neighbor. Watching her every move, skulking around, looking in on her while she's doing yoga, stealing her dirty laundry and sniffing it..." Then again, that must make Makepeace slightly creepy for enjoying the scent of Esther on the towels she had offered him.
"Besides, someone has to do it so you're not tripping over all these little dents in the floor ven you are doing zee pee-roo-ates I vill be makingk you do, my Pavlowa." He went on to say, slipping into an exaggerated Russian accent as he said it. "Pirouette! Entre chat!"
If he had a comment to make about Siobhan and Pratt's run-in with the custodian, he didn't make it, but then, they had sworn him to secrecy about their... Relationship.
"The custodian is a little creepy, but they wouldn't have hired him if he was truly evil, would they? I mean, he's working around kids!" Esther noticed the way he deflected the part about the fireflies. Hmmn. Must be true. She smirked. Very well, she could change the subject too.
"It will be a challenge to dance like someone who has had eight years of dancing with lessons and practice every day, but is still bad. She'd have to be athletic. She'd have some knowledge of the moves. But basically a clutz, and graceless. I've had ballet lessons since I was three. I do know how to do it, well. So I wonder if I shouldn't have let someone with no skill at ballet at all take this part." Privately, Esther was worried that people might think she really was a terrible dancer. Or maybe Miss Buskirk did.
"John Wayne Gacy worked as a clown, didn't he? For, like, hospitals and childrens' birthday parties and such?" He countered with a deadpan expression. Then he figured that he was letting the other Keepers' paranoia about the staff infect him, and shrugged it off. "But yeah, he would have been checked out before they let him work here." Wouldn't he have? Makepeace was fairly certain of that.
He cocked his head at her as she spoke of the challenge of portraying someone who sucked at Ballet, and pursed his lips. "Got me, although the script calls for me to really get into it and do some pirouettes, as well." He said, raising himself up on his tiptoes in what could have been the world's most awkward en pointe. "Still, there's more to being a dancer than just the athleticism." He said, sinking back down. "There's rhythm and artistry. Or so my Swing Dancing instructor said over the summer. Maybe she has no rhythm? Maybe she's tone deaf and that's why she can stand to live with a guy who plays the Xylophone."
"Ooh, no rhythm. I could make that play! I could make her skilled, athletic, even graceful, but with absolutely no sense of timing. Perfect!" She gave Makepeace a hug and nearly kissed his cheek before she stopped herself, turning into a silly Russian ballerina air kiss, and making it in character for his character, not hers. "Perfect, dahling, vee vill make dis vork!"
"Just a little sage advice from the king of rhythmically-challenged white boys." He said with a wink, noticing how close she was, and the scent of her as she delivered the air-kisses. His mind began to race, and his cheeks colored a little at the sudden, unexpected closeness. Without his suit on, it was like he was virtually naked in front of her.
He stifled that thought hurriedly.
"So, how are you doing?" He asked, suddenly feeling a lot more bashful than he was a few moments ago. What the hell was going on? Did he suddenly lose his powers when he took off his suit or something?
Esther looked at him curiously. He'd blushed. Maybe it was the heat after being under the mask. "I think you need some fresh air. Let's get you outside. We can talk about how we are doing out there. I've been looking for possible Legacy recruits, the usual. You aren't coming down with anything, are you?"
